I pulled the last sheet of paper out of the typewriter and added it to the stack that represented everything I remembered from McGregor’s. It wasn’t very long but it had depleted the last of the extra paper on my desk. I’d almost forgotten that the mirror was underneath it all, which meant that now there was nothing to hide it under. I held it up to look into it and saw the same rose with the same petals as always. Nothing had changed. I thought about what Amy had said about it, a truth showing mirror that didn’t reflect anything. At least she didn’t see anything. I saw the same rose every time. So what was the difference between us?

The room didn’t have many hiding spots to begin with, and with the papers on the desk gone I’d have to find a better place. For lack of a better option I pulled the bookshelf away from the wall slightly and slid the glass in near the floor. With the mirror somewhat hidden I turned to the door. The idea of walking into Death’s office again wasn’t appealing, but I had to turn in the report. I had to get more paper, but that wasn’t really important. I sighed as I grabbed hold of the doorknob and opened it into the same dusty and cobwebbed room that I remembered.

“I’ve got the report.” I muttered. Death swiveled around in his chair, looking every bit the cliché evil villain, to face me.

“That won’t count as a substantive literary work, just so you know.” I put the small stack of papers down on his desk. Death picked them up and skimmed over them. That would have been when I should have left and maybe started working on something new.

“What’s really going on here?” I had no idea why I was asking him about it. “I know you have a reason for all of this, and I demand to know it.” I really didn’t expect to get an answer, a penalty of instant non-existence seemed more likely. I’d been thinking it over for a while though and there was no other way to get the truth.

“I beg your pardon, what was that?” Death asked looking up from the report.

“I want to know what’s going on, why did you contract me?” My words sounded much less brave the second time around.

“As you know, I enjoy literature.” I frowned. I didn’t buy it, I wasn’t that good. “As you also seem to know, however, that is just the icing on the cake. There was a more compelling reason for dealing with you.” He seemed too calm. It gave me the feeling I wouldn’t survive long after this conversation. “You possess something very important to me. A particular mirror, it is fairly lacking in ornate qualities, but it possesses a very attractive enchantment.”

“It reflects your soul.” It had taken me awhile to figure it out but it finally clicked. Amy didn’t have her soul, or so she said, if I saw something in the mirror and she didn’t my soul was the only real difference.

“Indeed. I contracted for a truth showing mirror, a fashionable item at the time. The contractee had something slightly different in mind however, a mirror that could show someone who they are at their very essence. Effectively a truth showing mirror, but with a much more dangerous potential. It has another use, what is done to the mirror is done to what it reflects.” I took a moment to think it over.

“So if someone like you looked into it... and it was cracked or shattered...”

“So would be my soul and all the others that I possess.” Death sighed. “Fortunately very few people knew that it ever existed, and only two know that it still does.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Soon to be only one.” I closed my eyes and waited.

“No.” My eyes flew open in surprise. He seemed so calm he couldn’t possibly be serious.

“You aren’t going to kill me, or erase me from existence, or whatever it is that you do?”

“No, I do not think I will.” I stared at him in confusion. “There are a number of reasons why. I am sure if you thought about it you could figure some out, but I will refrain from making that request. There is one outstanding reason, however, that only I know about.”

“And that would be...?”

“If I were going to share it, I would have already.” He slouched into a reading position, held my report in front of his face, and turned his chair slowly in a circle. He didn’t acknowledge me any further. It was a childish move on his part, but he was also probably capable of turning me to dust if any of his “reasons” became more trouble than killing me. I took that as my cue to leave while I still could.

“Your little outburst reminds me...” I stopped in front of the door. I heard the sound of a drawer sliding open. “I got this from McGregor’s, it was the real reason I went after him in the first place.”

I turned to look just in time to see a thin shard of glass flying at me through the air. I held my hands up to protect my face and the glass somehow managed to land safely in my hands and avoid cutting my palms to bits in the process. Either my reflexes had improves vastly, or Death was just that good, either way what was most important was the object I now held in my hands. I looked at the glass and saw a blue glint reflected back at me. It wasn’t a rose… or a flower, or a petal or anything like what I’d seen in the mirror. It looked more like a blue ember.

“Everything I do has a reason, Albert. Keep that in mind from now on.” I put my hand on the doorknob.

“I will.”

“And try to keep it safe. While it may not be mine anymore, that mirror remains very precious to me, and not just because of its functions.” I walked out of the office and back into my room.

“I will.” I doubted he heard it, but I still found myself saying it more to myself. It wasn’t an official verbal contract but it still felt binding.

My feet led me back to the bookshelf. I stuck my finger behind it and pulled the mirror back out. I didn’t really want to mess with it now that it felt powerful in my hands, but something was pushing me forward. Both the mirror and the shard of glass Death had given me felt warm. I looked into the mirror and watched as I touched the shard to the side of the larger chunk of glass. It attached itself onto the mirror like they’d been melted back together, and at the same time the ember seemed to melt into the rose giving it a slightly blueish singed edge to the petals.

I felt energized. Like I’d just put in a fresh battery. I understood what I’d done. Whatever it was in the shard, part of a soul probably, had become a part of my soul. What I didn’t understand was why Death had given me the shard, knowing I would probably do what I had. He had just said that he did everything for a reason though, which begged the question: what was his reason for this? No matter how long I thought about it though, and it may have been a few hours, I couldn’t think of one.

Why would Death even let me live in the first place, let alone keep the mirror? It didn't make any sense. I put the mirror back behind the bookcase and sat down in front of the typewriter and stared at the keys. My eyes wandered around from letter to letter, stopping for an extra second on the ones I would press to type what I was thinking until my thoughts transitioned into a story.

I reached under the desk and tore open a fresh package of paper. I hadn’t even mentioned to Death that I had needed more, and yet there it was, waiting for me. The new stack caused the desk to shake as I dropped it where the last one had been. I put a fresh sheet into the top of the typewriter and scrolled it in. My hands managed to type up a working title without much instruction.

[https://i.imgur.com/Mzxa0FP.png]